


Halte Mich Fest

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Backrubs, Kissing, Multi, Reader-Insert, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: You wake up with Paul by your side, warm and loving.





	Halte Mich Fest

**Author's Note:**

> Title translation: "Hold me tightly"
> 
> If you're reading this on a computer, hovering over the German (and little bit of French/Russian) will have the translation pop up!

A feeling of serenity greets you upon your awakening; sunlight is peeking in through the drapes of the window above the bed, washing warmth across your body. You hear the singing of birds and the humming of passing cars, and this time, they're comforting sounds. You feel shifting from behind you, soon joined by a strained, tired grunt. Then a hand is knocking into your back, fingers curling into your skin with realization. Sleepily, you glance over your shoulder to see Paul rubbing at his face with a hand; his other is curling languidly around your bare side.

When he drops his hand from his face and meets your gaze, a weak smile pulls at his lips, his eyes warming. He scoots closer among the tangle of sheets, his smile growing into a slight grin. You turn your head away and hide your face behind a hand; he chuckles and kisses you on the shoulder.

“Guten Morgen, meine Liebe,” he murmurs with a voice rough from sleep, his lips moving against your skin, “Hast du gut geschlafen?”

You huff a laugh and move to lay on your back. He runs his calloused hand down along your stomach as you get settled amongst the covers, with him leaning over you, a loving smile on his face. The way he's looking at you with tender, lidded eyes has your heart melting. Your own smile grows.

“Oui,” you say, teasing him, “Et tu?”

Paul laughs. He grins, his crow's feet strengthening.

“да,” he remarks, the Russian sharp on his tongue like a whip, “Я спал хорошо.”

Smiling, you search his handsome face as you reach up to cup his jaw—his developing facial hair is rough under your touch. You stroke your thumb across his cheek as you say in a softer tone, “Good.”

Lowering your gaze from his beautiful eyes, you admire his smiling lips, the lines of age decorating his face, and then your stare settles on his graying beard. It's just too tempting. With your smile becoming a grin, you begin gently running your fingernails in a repetitive scratching motion down along his stubbly jaw, to his beard. Your rake your nails through it.

Again, Paul laughs in a low chuckle. He grasps your hand in his and turns his head to press a firm kiss to your knuckles. It has you softening. He kisses you twice more on your palm and wrist, his eyes closed, and then looks at you while threading his fingers through yours. He shifts closer, just enough for your bodies to align, bare skin against bare skin. It has a feeling of contentment intensifying inside of you—and has your heart racing. He searches your face, smiling, and leans in to kiss you on the forehead. Then he rests his forehead against your own; you feel his short, messy hair tickle your skin.

“Before you get any ideas,” you say quietly, flustered by the kiss and practically everything else he's doing, “I kinda have to pee.”

That has him pulling back and looking at you with an amused expression. He nods and lets your hand go, before reaching down to pat you thrice on the thigh.

“Get to it, then. We have a lot of cuddling to do,” he says, his English accent made thicker due to just recently rejoining the land of the living. You grin and nod. Propping up on an elbow, you raise yourself just enough to kiss him sweetly on the cheek. He grins and pinches you on the side, which has you jerking and wiggling out from underneath him to escape; he laughs and lets you go. You become aware of the fact you are very naked as you pace towards the door, and you can feel his eyes trailing after you as you go.

 

After taking a couple minutes to wash your face and brush your teeth, ridding of the discomfort that had built over the night, you eventually return to the bedroom to find Paul laying on his front, with his arms under a pillow, cheek propped against it with his eyes closed. It’s… Really endearing. You’re thankful you get to witness this scene in its entirety. You smile broadly as you approach the bed to climb on. His eyes blearily open to fix on you, though they roll shut again. While pulling the sheets up over your lower half, you move to kneel beside him. Placing your hands on the bed for stability, you lean in to lovingly press your lips in slow, gentle kisses over his shoulder blade, across his freckled shoulder, down over his faded tattoo. He shifts slightly, releasing a soft noise of acknowledgment, though grows still again. 

Peeking up at his face, you see him smiling with closed eyes. Invigorated, you move to kneel over his waist, placing your hands gently on his back—really, you’re practically sitting on his ass, separated only by the covers. He laughs and glances back at you with a furrowed brow and an amused grin. You don’t say anything; you smile faintly and begin stroking your hands up over his bare back, across skin warmed by the sun. Paul relaxes back against the pillow and closes his eyes. You run your hands down over his sides, enjoying the sensation of his skin under your touch. He moves his arms out from under the pillow to rest them comfortably against his sides. His fingers curl up, relaxed, and you’re tempted to touch them, too.

Again, your hands ascend slowly to stroke over his back, and then you run them up over his biceps. With a drift of your fingers, you readjust your hands to the center of his back. There, you splay your fingers out across the muscle of his back, your thumbs placed along the column of his spine. You begin to gently dig them in to begin massaging the muscle; you work your way up his spine to reach his shoulder blades. Paul hums with pleasure.

For the next five minutes, you busy yourself with kneading his shoulders, his shoulder blades, the muscle of his neck, his lower back, the tense muscle around his spine. Throughout it, Paul expresses his enjoyment with slight noises or grunts of pain/pleasure, which has you smiling. Only when your hands get stiff and your arms ache do you stop. You tuck your hands between his arms and his sides, placing them against the bed, to lean in and kiss him on both shoulder blades and then the back of his head—his buzzed hair tickles your lips and nose. Paul chuckles sleepily and lazily moves to roll over. You get off him and kneel beside him, drawing the covers over your lower half for modesty and comfort sake.

“I feel like goo now,” Paul mumbles, smiling warmly at you with a drowsiness in his eyes. He reaches up to run his fingers through his short locks. Joined by his messy hair and graying beard that’s a bit tangled after being rubbed into the pillow, Paul looks simply adorable. Considering his age, you’re not sure you should think of him in that way, but there’s really no other way to describe it. You grin, heart completely full, with laughter bubbling up in your stomach.

“That was my plan all along. To reduce you to goo,” you say, past your light laughter. Paul’s smile becomes a subtle grin that reveals a sliver of teeth. He scoots closer towards you under the sheets and reaches out to wind his arms around your waist; you feel his broad hands splay over the small of your back, hands which have roughened over time. He leans in to kiss you on the tummy and then rests his head upon your folded legs, his eyes closing.

He says nothing else, so you reach down to begin gently stroking at his haphazard hair. Contentment swells inside of you, gazing down at his face; you admire his closed eyes, his faintly smiling lips, his crow’s feet, the prominent laugh lines. You feel only intense love burning in your core. You wish you could somehow convey just how much you love him. It overwhelms you sometimes. It’s such an intense feeling, an adoration you have no control over. You just smile, watching his handsome face as you play with his hair, until he suddenly unravels his muscular arms from around you to roll onto his back.

Rubbing at his eyes with a hand, he then drops it down against your knees and looks at you with a weak smile.

“Come closer, Schätzchen,” he says lowly, his gray eyes soft and beckoning. You pause, and then oblige. With warmth crawling up into your face, you shift closer, until your knees meet his side. Then Paul smiles and lifts a hand to curl his index finger. 

“Näher,” he states, with a smirk. You arch a brow. Setting your hands down on the bed, you lean in towards him and whisper with a teasing smile, “Ich bin nah bei dir.”

“Nicht genug,” he remarks, grinning now. You press your lips together, failing to stifle your smile completely. You roll your eyes, earning a laugh from the other man, and lean in over him further, until your hair hangs down towards him. Then you look down at him pointedly, arching a brow with challenge. Paul’s broad smile brings out his crow’s feet and accentuates the lines of age on his face, his gray eyes amused. He reaches up to cup your cheek with a hand, fingers splaying out into your hair. It has your heart stopping. You feel your face begin to burn. He looks up at you with a softer smile, his eyes loving. 

Raising up onto an elbow, Paul leans in towards you and angles his head to kiss you, slowly. With warm cheeks and lidded eyes, you watch his face as he purses his lips tenderly against yours. Somehow, the image of his eyes closed, eyelashes against his cheeks, crow’s feet ever present, warms your heart. You repress your smile and close your eyes. Raising a hand, you cup it around his neck and return the chaste kiss with a gentle purse of your mouth against his. His lips are lovely and soft, and most of all, warm. You melt, just a bit.

Ideas of something more surface in your mind. You become hyper aware of his other hand, which had risen to rest over your side, his fingers curled lightly against your skin. He kisses you with a few more gentle purses of his lips and then he’s pulling back to look at you with a smile, his eyes lidded and kind. You feel blood burn in your cheeks.

“Du bist niedlich,” Paul murmurs with a growing grin, his crow’s feet intensifying. You squint at him and say with embarrassment, “Shut up.”

That has him laughing aloud with a broad smile, which you gladly admire with flustered appreciation. Then he reaches for you; you let him wrap his arms around you and pull you down, to lay you beside him, in his arms. You anticipated more cuddling, but instead Paul curls his fingers under your chin and tips your head back. You look up at him to see intimate desire in his eyes. You glance down to his lips as he begins to lean in again.

This time, when he kisses you, it’s with enthusiasm. His touch moves from your chin to cradling the back of your head with a broad hand; he keeps you still in his hold while he kisses you. You rest your hand against his soft stomach and let him lead the kiss. It delves into something passionate and heavy; you can barely keep up. He kisses you with hunger, with an overlapping of his lips that you try to match. He seldom expresses such lust in this way; your mouths mash together without much grace and it has your thoughts reducing to static. Your face is burning alight and your stomach is coiling with arousal. His beard is scratching against your face with every eager purse of his lips. The intimate noise of your mouths moving together only serves to fluster you further.

With a dip of his tongue, he begins to taste the inside of your lips. You make a slight noise against his mouth and let him. He tastes your teeth, your tongue—it’s overwhelming, but also incredibly arousing. It feels like your body is on fire. You quickly become overwhelmed, and breathless. You pull away if only to catch your breath; you lean forward to press your face to his shoulder, panting. He strokes his hand down over the back of your neck and says lowly with a smile in his voice, his accent thick, “I tasted mint. Anticipated this, did you?”

“Maybe,” you say, drawing your arm around his side. You shift closer to him under the covers, to feel his naked, warm skin against your own. With your smile hidden, you go on, saying, “I can’t believe you just did that to me.”

Paul laughs, tightening his arms around you. He tangles his legs with yours and it flusters you. You feel the hair on his legs against your skin. He idly strokes his fingers back and forth along your back. When he kisses your head, you smile and nuzzle closer to him.

“I’ll make sure to do it again later,” he muses, voice lowered and teasing. You reach down to pinch his cute tummy rolls between your curled forefinger and a thumb; he jerks back and looks at you with shock. Sternly, you stare at him with a pointed arch of your eyebrow, challenging him. He begins laughing as he slaps lightly at your hand, while he pleads amongst his laughter, “Hab Erbarmen! Bitte!” 

Relenting, you let him go, grinning now, barely withholding your own laughter. He whines jokingly, rubbing at his wounded stomach.

“I can’t believe you just did that to me,” Paul shoots back at you, followed by an amused grin that bears his crow’s feet. You can’t hold it back now—you burst out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I love that man's floob how could I not
> 
> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
